‘Plus 1’ Plus 3

Biscuit

Since moving to London I have been absolutely soaking up as much of the new lifestyle as possible. Unfortunately this is a little counter productive when it comes to write-ups as I have mostly been either drunk or recovering.

Toast has given me a very firm telling off on your behalf so I have returned, with my told-off face, to bring you up to speed on recent events.

A week ago (yes… I know!) I accompanied Toast to work-related drinks. Being the ‘plus 1’ at these events is great because you don’t have to talk about office politics or who left the skid marks in the toilet, but get to chat to all the interesting people.

I found out afterwards that I had briefly seen Mia. “Seen” in the sense of a flash dark hair and fringe over my shoulder as she left about 20 seconds after we got there.

There were three particularly notable girls:

Toast’s potential new boss

I didn’t REALISE she might end up being Toast’s boss when we first started talking. She was quite hot in a self-assured leather-jacketed kind of way. My mouth got a bit confused when she told me her age and I MEANT to say words that expressed my surprise that I thought she was younger. However I blurted “Oh, is that all?”, which conveyed exactly the OPPOSITE of what I was thinking.

Spaz.

She was good enough not to acknowledge and I apologised later but she took it with good grace, because she is that cool kinda unflusterable lay-dee. However being Toast’s potential new boss I felt I might have done enough damage already so extracted myself before I compounded my error.

The Artist

This was the sister of one of the girls present. She was an intriguing mix of sweetly naive and wickedly miscreant. Her forthright opening gambit was to insist on a secret from me that Toast didn’t know. Before very long she was had us enacting a variety of poses and coaxing us into more suggestive stances whilst she took photos.

I felt a little dirty but kind of liked it.

The combination of childlike innocence and subversive grooming was positively joyous and rather sexy. We have plans for another group drinking session when she is back in the area.

The Buxom Brunette

I had seen her chatting to others earlier on in the evening and was very curious. Having tried several times I had failed to catch her eye and it was only towards the very end of the evening, after several pints, that we stated chatting.

Suddenly, almost mid sentence, she broke from the conversation, pointed at my shirt and asked

BB: “hold on, are those poppers?”

B: “Err, yes”

…at which point she whipped her hands forward and tore my shirt open.

I’m not shy about my body, but I generally refrain from subjecting others to it in a pub. She caught my eye with a wickedly mischevious grin as I sighed and re-clothed myself. I think this is the not so subtle grown-up version of pinging a bra strap. I might have sighed for the sake of saving face in front of others, but actually I was rather enjoying it.

She ripped them open again. I acquiesced and complied by tying my shirt into a kind of Daisy Duke get-up. I think a couple of other people did a little sick in their throat.

It wasn’t until the following day that I realised that she actually really reminded me, in looks, of Cupcake. That’s not unhealthy, right?